Spork (a heartbreaking Savannah Stehlin) is the kind of girl who arrives at school each day with her impenetrable thicket of barbed-wire hair dotted with spitballs launched at her on the bus. Her brother is raising her in a pocket wasteland of a trailer not far from where her mother lies — under a tombstone marked “Mommy.”

As war with a squadron of Mean Girls beckons, Spork finds a savior in her opposite number at the trailer park: An ebullient, Afro-Sheen-addicted classmate named Tootsie Roll (a hilarious Sydney Park) who schools Spork in the ways of booty-poppin’ clown dancing. Soon enough, no beeyotches be messin’ with our Spork. For reals.

The script, by 30-year-old writer-director J.B. Ghuman Jr., is jazzed with John Waters-caliber campy satire (“Choose Youre [sic] God and Make Some Friends” reads a sign at a school religious fair held in the gym). But camp often means a lack of feeling and generalized disdain; not so in “Spork,” which has as much heart as “Sixteen Candles.”